


No one of that name: eight fragments

by Naraht



Category: Return to Night - Mary Renault
Genre: 1930s, F/M, Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-27
Updated: 2014-12-27
Packaged: 2018-03-03 18:39:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2862467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Naraht/pseuds/Naraht
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Even in a universe where you can find your soulmate's name written on your arm, true love doesn't run smooth for Hilary and Julian.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No one of that name: eight fragments

**Author's Note:**

> This morning I read an excellent Peter Wimsey soulmates AU, [Gentle Antidote](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2802470). The amazing world-building in that story inspired this rather more slight effort.
> 
> In order to make this work I've borrowed a handful of phrases and lines of dialogue from the novel. I hope there is enough original content for it to seem worthwhile.

_i._

Lest her parents expect her to get married immediately, Hilary had insisted that the registry search wait until she graduated from Oxford, even though she would be twenty-two by then. But she need not have worried. The answer came back the following week: there was not a Julian Richard Fleming in England above the age of twelve.

"I'm so sorry, my dear," said her mother gently. She unconsciously stroked her own arm, on which Hilary's father's name was - of course - boldly written.

"I suppose he's in Australia," said Hilary, trying not to give away her immeasurable relief. "Or South Africa. Or leading expeditions someplace off the map."

Though it would be a sacrifice, she resolved never to read another book or newspaper article about Arctic exploration or the Survey of India.

"We could try a worldwide search," said her father. "Expensive, of course, but it seems to be done quite a bit nowadays. I suppose I could look up the name of a good registry in Sydney, and telegraph to ask..."

Hilary could just envision the lengthy worry and unnecessary fuss incumbent upon this project. She felt for her elderly parents, who after all only wished to see their last unmarried child settled properly according to their lights.

"Maybe it would be better to wait," she suggested, and took a deep breath. "Because, you see, I've been thinking. I should like to go on and study medicine."

_ii._

David did not believe in the existence of soulmates. It was sheer biological chance, he said, which people took as gospel and then dignified with the name of fate.

He took pride in the fact that his lover's arm did not spell out his name, and his did not spell out hers. Everyone in hospital knew it; one could hardly afford to be shy or modest when scrubbing to the elbow before surgery, after all.

"The whole thing is ridiculous," he said.

"Of course it is," replied Hilary, and told herself that she believed it.

_iii._

The impossibly beautiful young man lay unconscious on the hospital bed. And Nurse Jones was giving her a very odd look.

"You'll want to take his pulse, Doctor," she said, unaccountably. 

It went well beyond _teaching your grandmother to suck eggs_ , and it was not like Nurse Jones at all, but Hilary had neither the time nor the energy to rebuke her now.

"Thank you, nurse," she replied sharply. "That will be all."

Picking up the patient's wrist, Hilary stared in disbelief. The name written on his skin was her own.

 _By all the laws of human compensation,_ she thought, grasping at anything to still the pounding of her own heart, _it ought to say 'Henry Pratt' or something of the sort._

_iv._

"It wasn't that," said Lisa. She looked thoughtfully down at her bare forearm, where _Rupert Clare_ was spelled out in a curiously appropriate typewritten font. "Or rather, not just that. I always thought that it was just a name, that it didn't mean anything at all. But then we tried to separate, and found that however much we might have wanted it, we simply couldn't live without one another. So now I wonder..."

_v._

"Good Lord," he said, "I must be crazy. I haven't asked you _now_ what your name really is."

For a moment she thought desperately of lying, but it would have done no good, for he could have asked anyone at the cottage hospital the same question.

"It's Mansell," she said, a defeated admission. "Hilary Mansell."

Julian gasped. Then he got down on his knees in the long, wet grass and took her hands in his.

Hilary did not know whether to laugh or cry. "My dear, we scarcely know each other."

"But we're soulmates," said Julian urgently. "What more can we need to know? Marry me."

_vi._

"She hasn't gone to a registry yet, you see," said Julian. "She thought it would be better to wait until I was thirty; she thinks too many men find their soulmates and marry too young, just for the sake of..."

He coloured slightly. 

Hilary swallowed hard, attempting to suppress the anger that rose within her. Mrs. Fleming had known her own name from the start; she had known the name on her son's arm. Whatever one felt about the existence of soulmates - and she could not imagine that Mrs. Fleming took anything but the orthodox view - to have kept that information from Julian was unforgivable.

"But I always wondered whether there was something else," he continued. "Whether she had had the search done already and not told me. She never liked to talk about soulmates. I thought that perhaps the only Hilary Mansell in England was a man, and she knew it, and that was why..."

Perhaps, thought Hilary, but it still did not seem an adequate explanation.

"You could have written to a registry yourself," she suggested, "once you were of age."

"I couldn't. It would have killed her."

"Mothers don't die so easily," said Hilary gently, although in the case of Mrs. Fleming one rather wished that they did.

For a long while Julian said nothing. He busied himself with nuzzling against Hilary's arm, kissing along the path of his own name as it was traced there, as if to reaffirm the strength of their bond.

"When I was small," he said finally, still not meeting Hilary's eyes, "I used to wish that I would find her name on my arm. It seems silly now, but we were so much together, and there was no one but us two; my father had left her even before he died in the war. I thought that it would mean that I could look after her for good."

"Children often think that sort of thing," said Hilary. "But then, of course, one grows up."

_vii._

Slowly Elaine Fleming unbuttoned, then began to roll up, her tight widow's sleeve. Julian reflexively looked away; he could not remember ever having seen his mother's wrist, let alone the pale, still-smooth skin of her arm. He forced himself to look at it.

 _Andre O'Connell_ was the name written there.

"So, you see," she said, "when my parents wrote to the registries, they found nothing. In those days, searches outside Britain were almost never done, and I doubt they would have found him in any case. I was too proud to think of marrying anyone other than my soulmate; I turned down several men. When I finally met Andy in France, I thought that nothing else could matter. He proposed, and I said yes immediately, without asking whether it was prudent or wise."

"But he was your soulmate," said Julian.

She inclined her head almost imperceptibly. "He was my soulmate. And, as it transpired, he was already married. He told me afterwards that he had seen no other way, that his vows meant nothing compared to this. He expected me to agree with him."

Sharply she rolled down her sleeve again, as if the very sight pained her.

_viii._

"Oh, of course, that was what I started out to tell you. I'm going to marry Hilary Mansell."

"I think you must be mad," said Elaine Fleming. "We know no one of that name."

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [the soul resembles](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3166094) by [toujours_nigel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/toujours_nigel/pseuds/toujours_nigel)




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